Pest Control
by Colt401
Summary: Jason takes care of a pest problem. Part 2 of Birds of a Feather.


**Part 2 of this series! Hope you enjoy!**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own any of the DC characters.**

* * *

Jason watched the rhythmic rise and fall of Dick's chest as he slept soundly in front of him. Under normal circumstances, Jason would've fled the scene immediately, but this was different. He had finally gotten Dick to calm down after his mental breakdown earlier. It had been difficult at first, but when he finally convinced the stubborn idiot that he wasn't alone and _never would be_ , Dick was a lot easier to treat.

The older man had fallen asleep not too long ago, countless days and nights of patrol after patrol undoubtedly catching up with him. Honestly, given the amount and severity of the injuries that he had had earlier, Jason was amazed that Dick hadn't crashed before then.

A muffled cry from Dick brought him out of his thoughts. Damn. He had known that Dick would be having nightmare tonight—it was a given really, considering the circumstances—but he had hoped that the man would've gotten a bit more peaceful sleep before they started.

"Dickiebird? It's Jason. Can you hear me?"

"N-No! Tarantula! Stop!"

"Dick!" Jason tried again.

"Don't shoot!" Dick shouted as he turned on the bed, thrashing as he did so.

Jason scowled and pinned the older man down by his wrists before shouting, "DICK!"

With a start, Dick opened his eyes. Still foggy from sleep, all that Dick registered was that he was being held down. He thrashed and tried to get out of the hold, twisting away from his unknown assailant.

Luckily for Jason, he was built larger than Dick and he had more muscle mass, so while keeping the acrobat down was a challenge, it wasn't impossible.

"Dick! It's me! Jason!"

Dick's chest heaved as he took in deep breaths, trying to calm his racing heart. "Jay… Jaybird?"

"Yeah. Yeah, it's me."

Once it was clear that Dick had come back to his senses, Jason eased off of him but still sat on the man's stomach, watching him intensely. With a resigned sigh, Dick threw his arm over his eyes.

"You ok?" Jason asked hesitantly.

"'m fine," Dick mumbled.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Dick scoffed. "Do _you_ normally want to talk about your nig—dreams?"

Jason crossed his arms. "First of all, asshole, I don't need your fucking attitude. Second of all, I just want to know more about what happened so I can _help you_."

"And I don't want your help? Dick shot back.

"Then too fucking bad, Dickiebird. I'm the one who helped you earlier and unless you want me to call Babs—" At this, Dick's face drained of colour.

"Yeah, that's fucking right. Unless you want me to call Babs, you're going to let me because I know that you're not yourself yet."

Dick sighed and removed his hand from his eyes, but still refused to meet Jason's inquisitive and carefully neutral gaze, instead choosing to stare at his ceiling.

"Just a memory of how Blockbuster died. You don't need to worry about it."

"I'm going to worry all I fucking want. Tell me more about it. You never did go into much detail earlier."

Dick didn't speak for a long time and Jason was just about to chalk it up as a no-go when Dick opened his mouth to speak.

"I had him pinned down. We were fighting earlier and we crashed through a window and landed on the fire escape. I had him pinned down and he… he was taunting me. About how it would never end. People would die around me until there was no one left." Dick took a shuddering breath and Jason was worried that his older brother was going to start crying again.

"I was about to punch him when Tarantula showed up with a gun pointed at him. She said that all I had to do was step away from him and she could end it. We would be free. No one would ever have to suffer under him again…

"And so I got off of him and walked away. I let her shoot him."

"Dick…" Jason began. His older brother's tone had gone alarmingly flat, as if trying to shield himself from what had happened.

"After that… I saw his blood on my hands. I felt like I couldn't breathe. God, I couldn't _breathe_ , Jason." Dick's voice cracked and Jason could see his eyes begin to water as he continued to recount the events of what seemed to have happened ages ago, but in reality, was only a few hours ago.

"I ran up to the roof and Tarantula followed me. We… talked for a while and then she… you know the rest," he finished as he looked to the side, shamefully.

"Dick… do I really need to tell you that you were emotionally manipulated?" Jason asked.

"I… what?"

"You would know that too if you were in your right mind."

"Jason, I wasn't emotionally manipulated."

"That's bullshit. You're not thinking straight, Dickie. Nothing you say regarding yourself has much ground."

"If you don't believe me, why are you here?! Why are you checking up on me if you don't believe what I'm telling you?!" Dick shouted. Jason reined in his own desire to shout, knowing that Dick was only this emotionally charged because of what had happened. He had been pushed to his breaking point. Normally, his brother was much better at controlling his temper, one of the things that he liked about Dick.

Now though, seeing Dick afraid, vulnerable and defensive, it reminded Jason a little too much of what he was like before. So quietly, when only the sound of their breathing could be heard, Jason answered,

"I'm here to save you from yourself."

His brother looked stricken. "Shit… Jason, I'm—"

He held up a hand for him to stop. "Just go back to sleep, Dickiebird. I'll be here when you wake up."

* * *

Jason swung through the streets of Blüdhaven silently. When he had left Dick in his safehouse, the vigilante had been dozing away uneasily. Thinking back on their argument, Dick's vulnerable expressions brought to mind everything he had felt after being revived and learning that Bruce hadn't avenged him. His fist clenched as the urge to fight rose up inside of him.

He landed on the fire escape of the building where he had found Dick. He looked down to find a corpse below him. Seemed like the police had yet to arrive then. Silently, he marveled at the incompetence.

Jumping down, he landed in front of the body and observed it. A bullet through the head. It also looked like it had been shot at a pretty close range. To be honest, the dead body of Roland Desmond wasn't anything special compared to what Jason saw every night.

Still, all the evidence pointed towards a quick death. Better than what that bastard deserved for sure. So while it wasn't Jason's habit to dishonour the dead, he kicked the body so that it flipped over onto its back.

"Be grateful that I wasn't the one who kill you, you fucking bastard. I would've given a death a thousand times worse than the one you got."

* * *

Considering it was still dark out, Jason's best bet was that this "Tarantula" was still out on patrol. His assumption was proven true when he caught sight of a woman clad in orange leaping across the rooftops. Fist clenching around his grapple, he swung silently toward his prey. The woman turned, but was too slow to react to him. Jason swung into her feet first and pinned her against a brick wall, his forearm pressed up against her chin.

"Hello. Remember me?" he asked through a snarl.

Tarantula coughed before glaring at him. "To what do I owe the pleasure, Red Hood?"

"A little birdy told me about what happened with Blockbuster. You killed him?"

"And if I did?" she challenged as she grabbed his forearm, tucked in and kicked him in the stomach. Jason reeled back and heard the distinct sound of a grapple being fired. He reached for his own and met Tarantula on the adjacent building's rooftop. As he landed in a crouch, his hand inched towards his gun.

Just before he could grab it however, he tensed and rolled over. As he landed again, he looked up and found himself looking down the barrel of a gun.

"Interesting," Jason smirked. "You and I both prefer to use guns. Any particular reason why you've gone for this instead of god knows what else?"

"Maybe if you share your story, I will share mine," Tarantula said. Jason couldn't see behind the whites of the mask, but he was sure that she was rolling her eyes.

"Just what I ended up training with. It worked better than the other stuff. It gets the job done. But you know that." Jason felt a sense of satisfaction at the surprised look on the other vigilante's face at the answer. Clearly, she hadn't been expecting one.

"The same reason as you," she said, a woman of her word. "I trained with guns and they get the job done."

Jason grinned. "Great to meet a woman of my tastes then. No one else agrees with my weapon of choice."

"Oh, why is that?" she asked, her grip on the gun never faltering.

Jason shrugged indifferently, not that she could see it behind his helmet. "Oh you know. The 'guns are designed to kill' speech given to everyone at a young age. It's almost brainwashing really."

"Oh? Is that why _querido_ refuses to use guns when he patrols?"

Jason didn't need a Spanish-English dictionary to know what _querido_ meant and he certainly didn't need half a brain to figure out who she was referring to.

"Maybe. But you know what? Bats is right about one thing," Jason said, all his earlier mirth and teasing gone.

"And what is that?"

"That guns are an evil thing when in the hands of the wrong people," he said as he swept a leg out and knocked Tarantula off her feet. The female vigilante fell hard onto the rooftop. Just as she looked up and was about to stand, Jason straddled her and kept her down, his Glock pointed at her forehead. She struggled, but ultimately failed to throw him off of her. Growling, she glared up at Jason.

"What is this, Hood? I haven't been to Gotham. I haven't interfered with your work. What's the reason for you attacking me?"

"The reason? The _reason_ , you ask?" Jason demanded, cold rage flooding his veins. "The _reason_ , you bitch, is that you fucking _ruined_ Nightwing."

" _Querido_? I would've taken care of him if you hadn't interfered earlier," she said, the white of her mask narrowing.

Without even thinking, Jason pistol whipped her and took sick satisfaction as he watched her spit blood out of her mouth.

"You would've 'taken care of him'?" Jason sneered. "Is what I saw on the roof what you call 'taking care' of someone, you _rapist_?"

Tarantula's eyes narrowed as she returned her gaze to her attacker. "Call me what you like, but I am _not_ a rapist."

"Then what would I call someone who takes advantage of someone else sexually, when they clearly aren't in a state of mind to give consent? Oh, right. _Rapist_ ," he spat. Again, Jason hit her in the cheek with his Glock. All the rage that he felt and the need for revenge fueled up as he brought the gun across her face again and again.

By the time he regained his senses, Tarantula's face was bloody and bruised and almost indistinguishable. Jason took deep breaths in an attempt to calm himself as he came down from the adrenaline. Again, he pressed his gun against Tarantula's forehead and leaned in close.

"I should kill you for what you've done."

"That would be rather hypocritical of you," she pointed out, still calm as ever.

"I'm not talking about Blockbuster."

Tarantula's eyes widened as the gun moved from her forehead to her right upper arm. A loud bang and a scream tore through Blüdhaven's tranquil night.

"I should kill you for what you've done," Jason repeated. "But I know that 'Wing wouldn't want that so I'll leave you alive. But the next time you fuck with him…

"You'll wish you were dead," Jason promised. For the first time that night, Jason saw fear on the female vigilante's face.

 _Good._

Jason brought the butt of the gun down onto Tarantula's head. She fell back as her eyes rolled up in her head. He had hit a non-vital area and he had no doubt that Tarantula would wake up soon and find medical assistance. Dick wouldn't be pleased, per se, but it was better than the alternative. Plus, that idiot wasn't going to be able to help himself and so it was up to Jason. He stood and brushed off his cargo pants and sidestepped the pool of blood that was growing.

"Stay the fuck away from my big brother, bitch."

* * *

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